


Found It!

by WildfireKhaleesi



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Insinuated Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 21:02:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13016073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildfireKhaleesi/pseuds/WildfireKhaleesi
Summary: Anonymous asked: Another prompt let’s see, uh how bout reader comes to the station with hoppers hat cause he left it at her place, “here sheriff, left this last night.”





	Found It!

“Hey Chi- Jesus, where the hell’s your hat?” Powell laughed, looking at Jim Hopper and his disarray of hair.

“Fuck off, Powell.” Hopper smiled, rolling his eyes and beelining for his office.

“Aye, aye, sir.” Powell laughs, and Callahan joins him.

Hopper had woken up very late, ‘very’ being an understatement. He counted himself lucky for not running into Flo on his way in.

It’d been a very eventful night, filled with liquor tasting kisses and moans spoken against your skin. By the time he’d woken up, slight hangover ever present, he’d had no time to look for his hat. Or his half-full pack of cigarettes.

And boy, was he itching for a cigarette right about now.

His fingers tapped his desk tunelessly as he listened to messages from calls he’d missed due to his late day.

None proved particularly dire, interesting, or necessary. One for shady behaviour near the high school, which was common; and without actual proof or evidence, not an actual breach of law. Another was from Mrs. Hayden, asking for help with filing a claim to install a new stop sign on her street, the new Hargrove kid was driving her insane as of late; recklessly speeding down her street, as well as the rest of the town’s. The last was simply a non-decodable message from the town drunk, the only coherent word being “squirrel.”

With a huff, Hopper buried himself deeper in his office chair, running his hand down his face and closing his eyes. He should check in with Callahan or Powell, but his hangover was finally starting to dissipate, and he didn’t want to rouse it again by moving.

As if on cue, someone knocked on his office door.

“Hopper,” Flo chirped, “you’ve got a visitor.”

“Send ‘em in.” Hopper answered, sitting up straight in his chair, stomach flipping in protest.

He smiled big when you stepped in, and smiled even wider when he saw you were wearing one of his sweaters with your dark grey sweats that hung on your hips the way he loved, arms around your back.

“Hi.” You grinned, sitting across from him at his desk.

“Hey.”

“So, you forgot this,” you pulled his hat from behind your back and settle it on his desk, “at my house.”

“Mmm, didn’t have time to find it this morning. Late night, you know?” He teased.

“I’ve had my fair share of those.” You giggled, and his heart warmed. “Left these, too.”

You tossed his cigarettes onto the oak wood as well, swinging your legs in the chair because they didn’t meet the ground.

“God, I love you.” Hopper cooed, scooping up the pack and pulling a cigarette out.

Usually you’d watch as his lips wrapped around the tiny cylinders, but you were far too focused on his affectionate admission.

Neither of you had said your I love you’s before, and you definitely didn’t think you’d hear him tell you for this first time in this setting, but your cheeks warmed up and you gave him a toothy grin regardless. Hopper wasn’t a huge romantic gesture type of guy, and that’s one of the reasons you’d slowly fallen for him over the late nights you’d shared with him throughout the past year.

Finally, understanding what he’d just admitted he goes rigid. Lips curling tighter around his cigarette. He’s nervous.

“Chief Hopper, did you just confess your love for me?” You whisper, eyebrow cocked and face split still into that warm grin.

His heart does backflips in the confine of his broad chest, and he swallows deep because of course he loves you.

“Seems so.” He answers hoarsely, not quite trusting himself to speak full sentences yet.

“Well, I’ll have you know that I quite love you too.”

He sets his unlit cigarette on his desk and stands up, cornering the desk and settling on his knees in front of you, hangover far forgotten.

You run a hand through his hair, using the other to hold on of his own. His blue eyes seem lighter, and you realize just how much you do love him.


End file.
